


Something Mellow, Something Bold

by Cheirons_Thyme



Category: Die Mannschaft, German National Football Team RPF, Soccer fandom RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pure love story, maybe slow burn, rate may go up, realistic event accuracy and inaccuracy, realistic style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-07 17:05:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8808871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheirons_Thyme/pseuds/Cheirons_Thyme
Summary: Jonas Hector could never tell if he was a person of mellow or temperate disposition, but one thing he was certain: it was Mats who seduced him first and he was five-hundred percent sure he did a great job. The thing started to get weird when the winter of central Europe that never ever seemed be temperate in his memory turned out to be not-so-easy-to-evoke-crestfallen-emotion, that, was the moment when Jonas Hector realized one thing absurd: he was in love.





	1. Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day?

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. They have their own lives in reality, this is just a fic for fun which means everything here is fake, pseudo and absolutely untrue. Do relax and don’t sue me. 
> 
> A/N: Watch out, you are on a rare ship hahaha! I love the boys! Blame those videos on tv.dfb.de and their so cute interactions and whatever! BTW, I do not know if they live in the same room during EURO 16 tournament and later Die Mannschaft match days as I write here. I mean, probably they do? Anyway, it is a cold ship! Show me your hands, ladies! (nuf  
> No beta reading, I try my best to avoid grammar and typing errors.  
> Enjoy! cho♥
> 
> Rating M for mild sex or implied sex or sexual tensions or whatever. Rate may go up.
> 
> [Everything like this means text messages.]

Jonas Hector could never tell if he was a person of mellow or temperate disposition, but one thing he was certain: it was Mats who seduced him first and he was five-hundred percent sure he did a great job. The thing started to get weird when the winter of central Europe that never ever seemed be temperate in his memory turned out to be not-so-easy-to-evoke-crestfallen-emotion, that, was the moment when Jonas Hector realized one thing absurd: he was in love.

 

It all started in that summer--though part of his mind would protest, saying it might have been even earlier, he could not tell—anyway, it was in that summer and in that France--that France with the terrorism anxiety and various overload European complexities which was vivid than he ever expected but was still soaked in the sweat of romance and Champaign. The night before their departure, Jonas Hector stood in front of that handsome bastard with a prepossessing smirk on the corner of his mouth, the city of Paris shimmered its light that hazily rhythmed like a melody of evening tide. For one second of hesitation, the better part of his brain really offered an option of punching that damn pretty face just right now because he’d come up with some damn pretty good reasons sooner than he would expect.

He still remembered the day when he received the life-changing call from Jogi Low (that was a day rained like apocalypse, the whole city of Cologne smelt like moisture sponge) and he was also still a little bit unsettling on how fast he gained his position in Die Mannschaft and the fact that he now was recruited in the list of EURO tournament. He performed as a left back yet was able to fight fiercely as a wingman, which must be the reason why Jogi chose him, and he had no reason to doubt the judgement of one of the best coaches in his age. He must have confidence in himself and he must not screw. He told himself that was the spirit but the better part of his brain knew, despite the must-not-screw part, such self-assurance could never succeed appeasing any nervousness of a latest recruit.

That was the early June of 2016, a lovely day when the Die Mannschaft waved goodbye to their Ascona training center in Switzerland on the north shore of Lake Maggiore. He had to admit the geological combination of lake and mountain created an incredible quality of air perfect for deep breathes, the last a few days never failed to remind him how gentle and delighted the early summer in Switzerland that blessed and chorded in songs of variegated little birds could be. Despite the flash lights and occasional screams of names which did not belong to him, the heartily crackles of Thomas Müller and those much more quiet giggles from Mesut sounded friendly and warm. He saw Mario Götze walking silently while Jerome Boateng kept talking to him something. It must be hard for him to set off a journey without his best Marco Rues again. Poor boys, there was even no time for neither of them to mitigate their deep disappointment. They would always have a busy day ahead, and ahead more.

"Smile, handsome. Cameras are on you, they are not always friendly."

The sudden voice intruded his thought like nothing more casual, it was almost too low to catch up, but definitely clear enough for a targeted audience. He turned around and saw another man, taller than him, wearing a big smile and a pair of expensive sun-glasses, with the figure and face that any top model with over-confident ego would envy. He almost stood too near to him, in his personal space, but he could not complain because it was actually a media day, everyone crowded into everyone's personal space. The point is, he never felt such presence and it was a little bit…intimate? However, he found it mattered very little, because very soon after, he was sure he look like an idiot when he realized the corner of his own mouth started to lift, mimicking the same grin on the other man's face.

That was the first time he and Mats Hummels properly met, the last day in Ascona. Ascona definitely was not their first met, they probably firstly saw each other face to face on either pitch of RheinEnergie Stadion or Iduna Signal Park. Yet actually, that did not bother him very much either, the only strange thing here was why Mats Hummels, the endearing rock star of mass media and commercial activities, would be so contented standing here with him stead of enjoying the scream and flashlight, greeted him by calling him “handsome”, which was totally different from the sweat-smelly handshakes and words for amenity after matches. He smelt warm and fresh, it was a noticeable delicate scent of mint and amber which must be his cologne. Hector could not help but found himself actually enjoying it, perhaps a little bit too enjoying it, the way enjoying the amiable early summer of Switzerland, never rough winds to shake the lovely buds of May, maybe it was a shame to say goodbye so soon.

"You are Jonas, right? Jonas Hector, the brand new Cologne weapon on the left."

What a tongue. He thought.

"Huh, you have a particular interest on figure of words, don’t you?" He did not withdraw his eyes until he realized he was staring, it took him some effort to keep his face smile and voice neutral instead showing some stupid expressions. “But that’s a memorable way to say hi. Nice to meet you, too.”

“Don’t be so skeptical, I think we’ve met before.”

“Of course.”

There was a short silence, not so comfortable yet not embarrassing at all. It was a busy but normal day, filled with fans, media and travelling, but the moment he started to realize the surrounding, everything started to pour into the space between them, and all those lovely and enthusiastic sound and chaos, immediately grated something that newly formed right here which he did not notice until now and threatened to dissolve it. He saw Mats drop his head a bit then came back to his normal confident pose fast, his eyes wandered, looking at somewhere else behind sun glasses.

“You know I probably can’t be there for the first match. Dr. Wohlfahrt warns if I don’t want to tear my soleus or feel my calf muscle in hell for months I’d better be cautious, both physically and mentally.”

“That’s why you are avoiding cameras and interviews?”

“Come on, you will not like their curiosity, hero.” He sounds a little bit annoyed, but anyway continued the chat. “‘How’s your transfer, Mats?’ ‘How’s your leg, Mats?’ Hasn’t Jogi made it clear enough last week? What do I suppose to answer? ‘Better than Marco’?”

“That sounds very kind, Grumpy.” Hector commented dryly.

It was no way like a conversation to keep going, maybe part of him did not want to continue this talk at all. However, much to his surprise, Mats chuckled softly. “Be gentle, I’m a patient still. But trust me, Marco is the tough one. I worry about Mario more. Professional career does this to them, and THAT, is unkind…Speaking of which, do you have any suggestion for ‘kinder’ vocabulary choice for better?”

His voice was warm and delighted, like the summer needs nothing more to adorn. Yet, it was a weird question, a little too weird maybe, he nearly burst into laughter.

“At least try a ‘luckier’ one? Or maybe ‘more optimistic’? ” He shrugged. “What? Now you decide to rock the media day and dance to the flashlight?”

Mats paused for a second, then his iconic grin grew even wider. He took off his sun glasses and look back at him, almost too direct into his eyes. "No, not yet. But I now start to understand why Jogi pick you instead of Schmeltzer, you fierce multi-talent genius with a temperate pretty face. Jogi probably gonna shove you into media conference very soon."

What a tongue. He noted in heart again but couldn't help feeling lighthearted.

“Be gentle, you sarcastic playboy, I am a newbie still. I am not planning to screw such a crucial and lovely summer in my life.”

“I am gentle, always. And you won't, I know it.” Mats put on his sunglasses, the sunlight brightened his smile and painted his skin gold. "But speaking of lovely summer, you know, there is always something more lovely and temperate than summer's day, right?"

Hector arched his eyebrow.

 


	2. Por una Cabeza

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Everything like this means text messages.]

It was a comfortable travel and he started to get comfortable with everything, especially after they arrived Evian and got off their master-class-German-quality bus, standing on the ground of the fastidious Hotel Ermitage.

“Gosh, every time we go for a tournament I am not sure if we really go for tournament or for a vacation!” Thomas Muller was the first one jumping off the bus, he nearly tripped over himself and ran around like a 4-years-old with his suite case rattling behind. Mesut looked at it like he almost felt sorry for that poor thing, and Manuel was shaking his head.

"Thomas, could you please at least pretend to be an adult?"

"No, I won't. I’m the younger one!"

Muller was not only a humorous, hilarious piece of magic, but also a good teammate and wonderful human being. The over-energetic brunette from Munich just did not care too much about how other people would think. Then it was the kids started to get excited, even super cool Julian Draxler could not keep his poker face, they rushed to the open balcony, like they want to race along the meadow slope straight to the beach while, on the other side, Oliver quickly walked over with a face so ready to give a speech telling them why they should not. Indeed, it was a wonderful sight. The cliffs and hills with subdued lines were covered with willow and cedar wood, tender slope decorated by guilder rose and small vivacious white fir, soft breeze of summer mixing with the sound of seagull and the fresh salty smell of sea, the cornflowers with sassy blue were so ready to flower all summer. He walked into the corridor, the music there was just too beautifully soothing to ignore.

That was the moment his phone vibrated.

<A New Message.>

Jonas thought it was his cousin, but turned out to be a number he did not recognize.

???: [Don’t even think about picking ur room with Thomas, he’s gonna win your pants by playing poker cards.]

Who the hell...? He shot his head up and saw Mats, holding his cell phone in hand, stood beside a small table with Benedict Howedes, turned around, grinning back like he was so proud of himself. He then broke their eyesight, went back to his screen. 

???: [Oops, u see me.]

Hector was speechless for some seconds, the music playing in the marvelous corridor suddenly surged from the background to foreground, tickling his thoughts. He saw Benedict Howedes stole a glance of Mat’s phone screen, looked up at his direction then back to Mats' screen, and then rolled his eyes. Jonas typed his words in subject blank almost a little bit like furiously. However, he soon found himself anyway added Mats to contact list.

**[How do u have my phone number?]** –send

Immediately, he replied.

Mats: [Stick to the topic, hero. How about choosing my unit? W/ Manuel, and Beni, and maybe another young lad or two.]

[U stick to the topic! And why u r sending sms? We probably just one step away!] -send

Mats: [Then why do u reply?]

He was totally taken back by his cynicism, and he was sure he heard his giggles.

[Forget it.] –send

Mats: [Do consider, hero. And btw, it’s Por una Cabeza.]

What?

It took him two seconds to realize Mats was talking about the very piece of music playing background, the featherly delicate Spanish tango danced its beats into one’s soul, the way playing the softest string of a lover’s heart.

[Switch off ur playboy rockstar mode, asshole.]-send

There was a long pause, then he saw the other one was typing.

[Ouch, that hurts. I never switch it on randomly.]

He chuckled. He knew he could never get the upper hand when dealing with Mats Hummels the silver-tongue, so he just chuckled and put his phone back to his pocket. He shouldn’t bother so much, except he was still lack of explanation that why his heart just skipped a beat. He should have known it was unwise even indiscreet to talk with your new teammate like that, he should feel that way too, but he felt not. What will such a mellow summer ended up with? At that moment, he could not tell.

On the other side, Mats just saw Jonas put his phone back and turned away, talking around like nothing happened. Mats signed quietly, barely audible, but he was actually not as calm as he showed. Beni knew it when he saw him put his phone back but kept his hand in pocket. Then the handsome bastard standing beside him started to scratch the back of head like he was scratching his life out of some mess, speaking like he desperately trying to keep his voice low, even if he still kept his cynical smile hanging on his pretty face.

"Gosh, he is good, B.”

“STOP calling me B.” Howedes still focused on time-killing puzzle game. He emphased his tone but did not raise his eyes from his iPhone screen. “And PLEASE have some dignity, he is new here.”

“C’mon, I need your WISDOM on this. You two took selfie together?”

“Forget it, you hopeless being. He is right about you, **asshole.** ”

Mats growled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Mats Hummels/Benedict Howedes pairing, too. But I will just focus more on Hummels/Hector here. Hector is really an awesome player! There absolutely should be more fics on him in the fandom!


	3. This is Not a Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, I am more serious now.
> 
> [Everything like this means text messages.]
> 
>  _Everything in italic means thoughts_
> 
> and INTRODUCING! Benedikt Howedes/Julian Draxler pairing! ♥

Mats was right, Jogi did shove him into media conference sooner than anyone expected. In fact, according to Jogi himself, the coach had made up his mind even before the friendly match with Hungary, so here he was, late in the morning of 9th Jun, Hector found himself sitting with Manuel Neuer, answering questions as natural as he could be with a big pale plastic board covered with all kinds of sponsor ads standing behind, facing the flickering white flashlights so close in the front line trying to blind his eyes. Manuel was obviously more experienced and drew most of media attention, which was cheerfully lucky for him. And the a few questions he got was friendly, which was cheerfully lucky again. He could not help but letting out a long breathe after the player interview part was over. He and Manuel stood by the side door, drinking water, looking at the media conference room from a different angel.

“Not bad, Jonas.” The goalkeeper seemed much livelier now, he looked complaisant and approachable almost like a totally different person than the one sitting behind the conference desk several minutes ago. “I think you have got used to it already.”

Hector chuckled. “Actually I am sweating. One can burn calories by just sitting still and talk, I thought it was an urban legend.”

Manuel laughed and patted his shoulder, he was tall and strong, with a subtle combined accent. “You are right, it is not.”

“First time, anyway.” Hector took another sip of water.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, you did it great. No mention you have just being in Bundesliga for…?”

“Less than two years. Sounds like unreal, doesn’t it?”

“A little indeed. I mean, don’t take it wrong, you make your way unbelievably fast. I’d say it’s like a fairy tale to me.”

Hector smiled, he knew the big guy was sincere about his words. “Thanks.”

Then it was Bierhoff’s time to be on stage, the accommodating goalkeeper even told him a lot trivia knowledge about their coaches and managers, including what to say and what to do when dealing with certain boss. They kept their voice low, speaking half-heartily, sometimes stopped to catch up with Oliver’s speech on the other side of the room.

“See? Oliver is the true expert on public relation of the Die Mannschaft, try not negotiate with him on anything he did not approve, you can never win…well, after all, you know the bosses, they are obliging as long as you stick to THEIR rules, I mean Jogi too. Yet unlike Oliver, Jogi is somewhat more guarded in person, but he is totally an amiable coach, he is more direct on his opinions, not too harsh but never prevaricate. The only thing you must avoid is to mention Klinsmann in front of him, he may get emotional.”

“Klinsmann? I thought their cooperation was…”

“Nah, it’s not about their career but perhaps all about their career. Basti told me their problem is too profound and personal.” Neuer took another bottle of water and opened it. “Totally complicated.”

 

Anyway, that was a pleasant day, his media debut was not perfect but somewhat good enough. They drove back to Hotel Ermitage in the afternoon. Oliver was making phone call in the front seat, talking about some next-week schedule. Manuel just fell asleep, leaning his head against the window frame. Evian was a beautiful town, Hector stared at the beach line bathing under the sunlight which quickly hidden behind painted houses but soon re-merge in sight again through UV filter window glass that faded those rich colors a bit, weeping willows on the side of high way went back and disappeared, so fast like they were never there. He took out his phone in pocket to check what time it was, only to see two missed phone calls.

<Mats (2) 24 minutes ago>

Hector raised his eyebrows then took a glance at Manuel, the latter sitting beside him was still keeping his eyes shut and breathes even. He hesitated for a moment but anyway tapped the notification on lock screen. He did not expect the defender picked up his phone in light-speed.

“Hey hero.” The one on the other side of the line sounded delightful. “I knew you would call me back.”

“I didn’t see your call. Anything?” He kept his voice low, carefully changed his siting position in order not to wake Manuel or disturb the boss in the front seat.

“Nothing special, in fact.”

“…Then I am going to hang up on you.”

“Easy, hero. How is your media day?”

“I don’t know, not bad I guess? Manuel took care of most of their questions, lucky for me.”

“Then not bad is good enough. Too sad that I missed the live.”

“Wait, shouldn’t you be doing recovery training now?”

“Just finished. I’m making progress fast.”

“That’s great.”

“I know. See you around. I’m just glad you call back.”

He chuckled. “See ya.”

He put down his phone, and realized the last word he just uttered ended with a subtle ascending tone, purely delightful but purely absurd as well. The sunshine outside of the window seemed even brighter now, he did not know why. Then his transitory self-awareness was cut off by a yawn, he turned back, saw Manuel rubbing his face, totally awake.

“Didn’t intend to wake you, sorry.”

“No no don’t be, I am not that fully asleep actually, just a nap.” He yawned again, and voice still thinly covered by sleepily hoarseness. “Mats?”

He guessed the goalkeeper knew it when he heard him talking about recovery training, which was definitely Mats’ situation, couldn’t be no one else. “Yeah, it’s him.”

“Huh,” The goalkeeper hummed with an interesting tone, but did not continued the talk.

 

_Watch out, this is not a game._

 

\------------ 

 

"He called back. Told you I stand a chance." Hummels stood by the door frame with a wide grin on face, playing his cell phone in hand. Howedes walked past him, grabbed his laptop in bed and turned it on.

“Don’t stand in the door way, idiot.” Howedes just came back from filming his part of _Gedanken aus der Box_ interview, and most of the players just finished their training sessions today as well. The frisky laughter and noises the boys made painted the pastel afternoon buoyant, a time of vibrancy which was so pleasant to enjoy, as the redolent scent of French summer in the air.

“They’ve already uploaded a highlight version of the conference. Check this.”Howedes did not look up but still browsing the DFB web page and clicked the newest video. It was less than six minutes but contained enough information. He found the Hector boy was quite nervous but controlled himself very well. He did not have too many questions to answer but he was definitely prepared for whatever to come. He even chose not to wear his glasses, which must be out of careful consideration that a new comer better not act like a frivolous fashion icon but a moderate and assiduous person by characteristic. _Smart, way beyond the kid level._ Howedes thought and continued watching. His gestures were slightly of femininity—perhaps because of his nervousness that wore out his masculine a bit--but natural and sweet, even charming, and his eyes…Howedes now started to understand why Mats was so obsessed with him.

_Bastard._

“Sweet, handsome and smart.” Howedes shut his mac, turned his face towards Hummels who standing beside him, but did not get up from his chair. “Not a seraphic beauty yet very appealing and even graceful.”

“But?” Hummels caught his pause, hint of words unsaid. They had known each other since their teenage, been through the vexation and discomfiture of youth together, and even had a relationship which did not work out in the end. They knew each other too well.

Howedes let out a sign. A robin chirped on a sprig outside of window as the sunlight in the afternoon walking on the wall. “Mats, listen. I know he is attractive, a beautiful person, a good player. BUT you know what? The last time I saw a defender with such a limpid mind and determined spirit, he turned out to be, or happened to be, Phillip. This Hector boy is probably gonna be a phenomenal-level master-class left back. I am not going to watch you walk around and be his heartbreaker—or perhaps the other way around. He. Is. Good.”

_…So?._

A short silence presented in the air for couple of seconds but felt like lasted for decades, Hummels could sense the squall underneath the peaceful conversation, scratching the insubstantial intensity of antithesis holding on an invisible tightened string. They had ended their relationship for years, but decided still remaining as good friends. They came to agreement that it would be easier and better to treat each other like brother instead of lover, but it would be a big lie to say neither of them hold no grudge on this particular past. Youth would haunt, especially a haunted one, even if both of them had moved on since long time ago.

Hummels knew they would have a spat again, it always started like this but in the end harming nothing already.

_Huh._

“First, he’s not a BOY. Second, I’m not planning to be his heartbreaker. And third,” He found himself anyway was smiling. “If he’s gonna be mine, so be it.”

“Save your witticism.” Howedes snorted.

“Then save your criticism first.” His tone raised a bit, he was still smiling but mixed with a slightly obvious anger.

“Huh, now here we are again. Someone’s ego was just too burning bright to face some cold logic.”

“For Christ sake, Beni! You sound like my grandmother!”

“Oh, that’s good, at least one of us is an adult now.”

There was pause, like something hit him. Hummels crossed his arms, eyes narrowed. He knew Beni probably still hold grudge on their past, and he knew how hard their past had been, how terrible an asshole he used to be, and how much tolerance and forgiveness Beni had given. The robin and sparrow were still chirruping outside, the early summer of France was never lack of those little feather windbags. Everything just suddenly concentrated on a particular point, it was like something just hit him.

“…Are you jealous, Beni?”

_Huh?_

“Wha…?” The elder guy widened his eyes then growled loudly in disappointment.

“Gosh no, you embarrassing piece of asshole! I’m not jealous!” The Schalke captain rubbed his face with an irritated frustration. “Have you ever learned ANYTHING from all these past years?”

The taller defender did not reply. Howedes signed heavily, reached out to the other guy’s shoulder. “Hey, you are like my family, I care about you. I don’t want to see you get yourself into a hard relationship again. We both have been there, you know how much pressure to undergo, and how many troubles and lies followed. Why don’t you just try a model or actor or actress or maybe some ordinary sweetheart? It won’t be problem to you or to anyone I guess. I’m not judging who you date, but to date another player? In men’s football industry? Again? You’ve already known how it is going to be like. ”

He was right. The days when they were struggling to keep their relationship afloat still hurt, the distance because of transfer and career could never make hearts grow fonder but to make craving into ache, ache into pain. The hardship of concealing everything that was true, to run like a thief to avoid cameras and paparazzi, to keep a beautiful thing in life like a shameful secret. And the worst part was, after so much effort paid, in the end one only to find that they had nothing left but exhaustion.

Hummels suppressed a wince as the memories renewed the past bitterness. “I know. That’s why I’m serious about him.”

“If so then think again, you idiot. I know he likes you too, I can tell by his body language and the way he looks at you, ten days ago, in Ascona. I don’t know why you two have such a strangely strong chemical effect. But to forge it into a relationship? It will not be easy for him either. Especially he probably has no experience on dealing scandals at all, you know how hard it’s gonna be no matter how smart he is. It’s unfair for him to play your scandalous love game.”

“He doesn’t have to. Because I’m not going to push anything he doesn’t know into his life. The choice will always be his.”

Howedes was somewhat taken back by these words, but his friend continued. “After all, He has more important thing to focus on right now. He needs time to accommodate in Die Mannschaft. I’ll be there if he is comfortable, but I am not going to rush into his life.”

Howedes lifted his eyebrows, staring at his friend with an expression almost too complicated, then chuckled softly. He dropped his head a bit, speaking like he was talking to himself. “Jesus, did I hear it wrong? You’ve changed a lot, asshole.” He raised up from his chair and walked towards the window where he put his mug. He leaned against the wall where the curtain fell, casting his eyes outside of the window. The most dazzling pulchritude of summer had not arrived yet, but it was like someone had already portrayed some loveliest part of this season on the landscape, jade colored weeping willow stood among splashy snapdragons, a small factitious river wandered its way like nothing more natural. He turned his face to Mats, thinking but not speaking, eyes not intense but austere, like he was evaluating him carefully.

“Huh…so you really are serious about him.”

Mats rolled his eyes but anyway replied. “I am not a playboy, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” The Schalke captain raised the mug to his mouth, but found it was empty of water. And suddenly, he remembered a lot of things, memories he thought he had long forgotten now was surging back like a torrential tide. He felt this throat tight.

“You’d better not screw up this time, asshole.”

 

 ----------------

 

The day of his media conference was like a turning point. Hector soon started to feel himself do belong here as a true Die Mannschaft player for sure. He wondered if the media conference was a kind of ritual or something, but he kept this theory to himself anyway. Kids liked him, Julian Draxler said he was sometimes a little bit too reserved, but anyway that was not a big deal to bother. Julian was a cool lad, poker-face and ambitious, he spent most of his casual time with Benedikt or Manuel or Mesut when he was not occupied with some video games which Hector had never figured out why so global-wide popular. He preferred playing darts with Mustafi, Julian Wiegl and Ter Stegen sometimes joined as well. Thomas brought his poker cards with him, but Basti warned everyone not from Bavarian region taking careful consideration before they decided to play with Muller. Their open training was filled with public attentions, they signed t-shirt like human machine, greeting fans and visitors at best their behaviors. Every day rolling its own track went on as the every day before, but Hector could tell the atmosphere within the team was instantly getting intense as their first match approaching.

On the 11th of June, the team travelled to Lille, two days later they are going to face their first opponent. Mats recovered more than just well, he even rejoined the group training, but was considerably quiet in these days, still spent more time in his separated recovery training with medical physicians. Benedikt Howedes was going to take his defender position in the first match against Ukraine, whom Jogi Low had much confidence in. Hector was the left back and according to Jogi’s plan he would strategically performed as a wing man when necessary. Therefore when coming to the defending part, Hector would only do the disturbance, if threat persisted, Howedes was the one to clear it on his side once and for all. Howedes was a man with patience, an absolutely amiable and gentle person. it was not their first time playing together and they cooperated rather well. They even exchanged phone number after his first match for in national team and the Shalke man urged him to open a Twitter account or at least try Insgram. Anyway their first match had a good outcome. They beat Ukraine by two goals, and Basti’s score was more than just perfect which happened less than two minutes after he being substituted onto the pitch.

The night after they get off the flight back to Evian from Lille was peaceful and quiet. Younger boys made phone calls to families or girlfriend on bus, the mixture of soft chat and laughers sounded velvet smooth. Cool breeze of air conditioner assuaged some of their accumulated intensity in past a few days, the bus was driving them back to Hotel Ermitage, the shimmering traffic lights flashing back outside of the window, the glowing luminescence of Evian city stretching out on the gentle vast slope along the beachline.

It was approaching mid-night, the bus kept its normal speed for safety, and Hector fell asleep. Mats Hummels simply did not know how he and Jonas ended up sitting together, he remembered the young man from Rheine region finally looked relaxed. Jonas met everyone’s expectation today, his skills and insight made the German left side a loaded precarious zone for Ukraine, and perhaps because of devoting too much concentration in 90 minutes (that was his first important international game anyway), he was really exhausted by now. Mats smiled, there was no need to worry about Jonas’ condition, just by nature his body was craving for one night of proper sleep to recharge, and the humming coziness inside of their bus always luring out one’s sleepiness easily.

Yet the point was, Mats simply did not know how he and Jonas ended up sitting together, after some half-hearted small talks, then that was the moment, when he felt the young man’s forehead touched his shoulder, he totally frozenly tensed. The young man from Rheine region just fell into sleep, leaning against his torso.

 _Oh_.

Mats Hummels smiled to himself but cursed as well. His hair looked too soft not to ruffle, still covered with a faint smell of shampoo that washed off the sweat and hair spray after the match. There was a thinly shallow scar around the corner of his right eye, which must be the reason why he always wear a pair of glasses. Mats knew it was gonna be a tough twenty minutes until they arriving Hotel Ermitage for him because he had to try very hard, at his very best, to suppress his every urge and desire of touching him. His breathes were even, tensed body frame totally softened, which was a clear signal that he trusted his surroundings, especially those close to him. Mats thanked his own terrible travelling habit of tossing his coat on seat, he dragged his coat out carefully and covered it over Jonas with the gentleness he never thought he was able to perform.

_Good, keep napping, hero. I’ll keep my hand to myself._

In fact, Mats was wrong, though he could keep his hand to himself, and he was totally capable of reasoning down all those ridiculous desire of touching, caressing or ruffling the man leaning against him, something new somehow surged onto the surface of his consciousness--he wanted to kiss him. Less than four minutes after, he could feel by every second his calm and stillness was wearing thin. Those warm breathes were just too featherly enticing to resist. Mats looked around. Beni’s seat was some lines ahead of them, quite enjoying the music or whatever playing in his headphone; some of the younger players were taking a nap, too; Thomas and a few other Bavarian boys were playing cards, with occasional chuckles and suppressed yelp. No one would notice him.

He wanted to kiss him. If he could nap like this, then it definitely meant he was comfortable with him, right? Those subdued breathes were tickling his resistance until all hesitation finally dissolved. He bowed his head a little lower, and placed a kiss in his soft brown hair. He thought he must have stayed for too long before he finally let go.

That was the moment Jonas woke up. He dared not move nor open his eyes. It happened so fast like a flashlight, and the first two maybe three seconds after he drifting out of his nap, he realized he was leaning against Mats’ shoulder and Mats Hummels, the handsome bastard flirted with him from the first day, was kissing him, on his head. He fought the impulse to reach out to that sun-kissed wrist and circled his fingers around it, feeling the pulse. But the more awaken part of his brain stopped him. He was shivering to the core but still stayed still, he thought he was dreaming something strange. That short trip from airport to hotel finished with him pretending wake up upon their arrival, knowing nothing, with Mat’s coat over his body. And the next a few days went on like nothing happened. But he knew, everything had changed.

Mats still remained quite silent these days, sometimes sending meaningless messages like he was joking. He knew Mats got his phone number from Benedikt from the first time, but whether Beni gave him or he dug Beni’s contact list did not matter that much. He had heard rumors about them, when he was not in Bundesliga yet, including some other players’ too. However, he never knew how much exact credit to count in those stories. He thought those were just some by-products of wild fantasies from teenage fangirls with unusual celebrity gossip taste. Such assumption did not come undone until the day he realized Mats Hummels was flirting with him.

_Of course he was flirting! Who would quote Shakespeare’s most noted love sonnet when met someone for the first time? And Por una Cabeza? Could it be more ridiculously high-school style?_

Then he kissed him.

So what about him and Benedikt? If those rumors were true, then Mats was about to initiate a double-scandalous-level affair, which was an absolutely unwise and illogic choice a grown man could make. Jonas could not help but feeling confused. He never thought about it, to have-- he tried to figure out the exact word to apply here--an affair with another player had never crossed his mind. Mats Hummels was not the only model-level handsome man running around in Bundesliga, and he did not even realize he was that deadly attractive until less than ten days ago. Hector knew it was not because of some silly first-time homosexual curiosity, because in fact, men sometimes hit on him in bar and sometimes he flirted back too but in the end he did not have any feelings for any of them. Then Mats? This was a totally different situation, even unfamiliar to him. Neither of them had made any actual move yet but something exquisite had already started quavering deep in his heart, too alluring to ignore. He could feel his presence when he was near, knew where his eyes were casting, secretly craving for his attention but also thrilled by it when he finally rested his eyes on him. He pitied himself, like just right now.

“You alright?”

Hector snapped back from his thoughts to reality. It was dinner time, they sat in the dining hall, Julian Weigl looked at him with a worried face at the opposite side of the table. Julian was a typically nice and simple kid, he just shove a spoon of vegetable into his mouth, a little too full to speak clearly.

“Don’t speak when your mouth is full of food, unless you want to get yourself choked.” Julian Draxler did not raise his eyes until he finished the last amount of salad in his plate, he strictly stuck to his table manner, totally different from most of the kids in his age. “And I think Jonas is totally OK if you stop munching a conversation like that.”

“Wow wow, we don’t want a Julian-fight here, don’t we?” Hector chuckled and drank his water. Jogi banned alcohol during the tournament. “I’m OK, Julian…I mean, Julians (both of them tittered at this plural), don’t worry. Just some thoughts occasionally cross my mind.”

“Then good, I think you should eat more, the food here is awesome!” Weigl did not wait too long before he decided to have his second steak, Draxler slightly shook his head, uttering he did not want see him wake the whole building for having a bad stomach in middle of the night. Weigl turned around and made a face. The young Wolfsburg player laughed softly in return then casually raised his glass to his lip. The warm tint light in the dining hall was obviously quite helpful to create a good appetite, the boy with almost too dark colored hair dashed his eyesight to somewhere else then glanced back to Jonas Hector. “So, what’s so catching to make you lost in your thought so completely just then?”

His tone was ordinary and cool, but words too conspicuously elaborating something too delicate underneath. Hector immediately knew he had revealed too much or maybe the Wolfsburg kid was just too astute.

“Nah, nothing special. I was thinking about Jogi’s training some hours earlier.” He lied.

“Huh.” Draxler leaned back a little, took another sip of water. “I never knew you are so good as a left back, I mean, I thought you were a mid-fielder by the first sight, more like a defending style.”

“I am, in F.C Cologne. Left back is only occasional task for me, Stöger sometimes even complained my style being too aggressive and assistant-like. I didn’t expect Jogi want me as such a role in Die Mannschaft.”

“Emmm, that’s why he is Jogi.” The younger player changed his posture, turned his eyes to him, with a smirk on his face too doubtfully innocent. “Have you ever thought about really do an aggressive defender? You and Mats are gonna be a power couple of defending line. He always got his eyes on you.”

_Tut. Careful, kid._

“I know.” The corner of his lip lifted, putting on the most sweet and harmless smile on face. However he now sounded playful, even chilling devious. “But you know, it’s not quite like a proper question, asking someone if he wants to DO a defender. I mean…do you?”

_Oops._

“I…”

“Just mistakenly omitted an ‘as’?”

Draxler blinked, then shrugged and made a subtle inhale, smiling back and pretending playing his new phone, blushing.

 

Howedes nearly bite his own tongue when he felt his phone vibrated in his pocket. His table were almost older boys, Jerome joked it would be easier for them not being embarrassed by their inability to catch up with the latest fashion or internet memes pooping up from young lads. Mesut was updating some old topics in their administration group, sometimes adding some transfer rumors of young ones. Mesut was quite interested in Draxler, whose praises made Beni feel both proud and protective. For a brief of moment, he really wanted tell Mesut stop fantasying Julian joining Arsenal, that was not happening. So when he felt his phone vibrated in his pocket, Howedes who just tried to swallow his half-chewed beef in mouth angrily thanks to Mesut’s over-eagerly enthusiasm of imagining Julian in Arsenal, nearly bite his own tongue. He fumbled in his pocket to find his phone, almost drop it on ground.

_Julian?_

Julian D: [PSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSST!!!]

 _What’s the matter?_ Mesut greeted Thomas who passed by, these two are totally different person but get along incredibly well. _Will Julian someday get along with him so well like this?_ Beni signed but typed back quickly.

[…?]-send

The kid replied in a flashlight.

Julian D: [It's about Mats.]

_Huh?_

[???]-send

Julian D: [He has a crush on Jonas, am I correct?]

_...Oh. My. Crap._

[…]-send

[I don’t F care how do you get your information, but you’d better keep your pretty mouth shut.]-send

Julian D: [Hey, I just want to help! And btw you should tell him to keep his eyes to himself, he is staring at our side throughout the dinner time! That’s really subtle!]

_WHAT??_

[God no…Tell me he did not.]-send

Julian D: [He did! And he’s probably still doing right now! It’s damn getting uncomfortable to me! Should I just ask Jonas at least return his staring with a smile? Where r u now?]

[I am not sitting with him, I am at the table with Jerome and Mesut, next to Bernard.]-send

_Wait…_

[Wait, you say anything to Jonas?]

Julian D: [Forget it. You know what? Just tell Mats don’t glare @ me like he is trying to kill me or something! I’m NOT interested in intervening their fucking love game!]

Beni rolled his eyes at these words.

[Language.]-send

Julian was typing. Beni thought for a little while then continued the conversation without waiting for the younger one.

[Leave them be. We’ll talk about this later. Now eat your meal, we are leaving to Paris tomorrow.]-send

 

 

...TO BE CONTINUE!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just enjoying writing about them too much...♥ Merry Christmas everyone♥


	4. Strange Romance (so Keep it Secret)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, they figured things out. Smut and other things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for my updating going so slow. But anyway, there you go! An lovely ending chapter with smuuuuuuut HAHAHAHAHA  
> I just ship them hard!!

On 15th of June, they travelled to Paris. The game against Poland went draw, which seemed to be a fair end as the Poland players were fierce and keen in style, especially with the Robert Lewandowski who just entitled himself as the best striker of Bundesliga last season breaking some insane record with that famous nine-minute-five-goal achievement, standing on their attacking line. Lewy and Mats shared a good friendship in private, but that did not mean the Polish forward should underestimate his professional awareness as a defender. So Mats snorted somewhat annoyingly when Robert tried to sneak a pass through him rather violently. The game was a tough play for group stage. As the additional time approaching with no goal in pocket, probably it was Jogi that might have a lot to consider or reconsider now as the outcome of the game against Poland was another proof of the Die Mannshaft, instead of being a team of Gods thanks to the imagination of fans and press, like other teams this year, had their own problems to cope. Götze and Müller still struggled with their own scoring issues, Gomes needed time to adjust himself in Jogi’s strategical system, though with Toni and Mesut being their magician on pitch, their attacking was nevertheless lack of efficiency. However, the brighter side was, the German young ones were prepared to show their wings, it was a great joy to see those kids were making progress so fast. And bonus, another brighter side, Mats noted to himself personally, was that during THIS match, he realized the whole time, there was a high level of rapport and trustee signaled between him and Jonas which was so strong that he had never felt before. Though it was hard to say whether defenders being capable of sparking that much chemistry to potentiate performances like other players on more attacking positions, such assumption of chemistry always fell into mystery, more or less a result of urban legend from sport press industry, which had to be his naivety if set aside. However, Mats knew that with Jonas on the left, playing beside him, he indeed undergo less pressure while guarding the German side. He loved his playing style, simple and intense. And Beni was right about this Hector boy, he was a great player in growth, a multi-talent left-back with biting fangs.

_He belongs here._

Boys in Die Mannschaft knew how difficult it was like to be picked by their head coach and how much work ahead to be done to earn one’s own recognition within the one of the world’s most competitive men’s football teams. The ambience within the team was gentle and amiable, but it did not mean anything guaranteed. After the first two games of EURO 16, Hector was certainly going to stay here, his performance had said it all. It was not even a matter of time for him to secure himself as a major player in Die Mannschaft, because according to Mats’ or probably everyone’s professional instinct, he already was. Mats could not help but feeling proud of him, when they cleared the last threat of Poland striker created in additional time, he patted his shoulder and Jonas touched his arm in return, which was the most usual way that everyone exchange their mutual encouragement towards each other on pitch. However, the subtle electricity travelled through this single small touch up to his arm and straight down to his spine was not the reaction Mats expected from himself, and part of him knew he now had himself trapped in some stupid love-fool situation very much thanks to himself which was, no.1, he had a crush on him hard like…very hard; no.2, he had stolen a kiss from him days before, not quite a proper kiss, but a kiss was kiss, and the kiss had definitely changed everything, liked it or not.

_Does he know?_

Jonas sat with Ter Stegen instead of with him this time when heading back to Evian, neither on flight nor on the bus did he even stepped near his one-arm personal space. Mats who sat just two seats behind, found himself stared at his phone screen, controlling his fingers from typing something stupid like “Get your pretty ass here, hero” or “Hey, how about we try a proper kiss?” in writing blank and touching that stupid send bottom. The troubled defender then joined the Bavarian boys to play Schafkopf and quit when he lose a third round. It turned out to be a long trip, he had a prospect before him of a dull late evening, without a visible mean of enlivening it. He nearly complained the breeze from air conditioner being too cold and the ventilating system was not working at all. Deep in his veins or down to his consciousness something like tantrum was heating up to a burning awakening awareness, maybe something related to hunger, crave, or greed? Or perhaps more like disappointment, depress, and a sense of loss? Spindly but chaotic emotions weaved a complicated surmise of nothing, ending up with him staring at the back of that brown head, wishing the other guy would just turn around and give him a smile.

_I should have known the psychological romance filled aching opacity never did nothing good._

The next a few days were organized as delightful and compact as they always would be, strengthen and conditioning training, Jogi’s strategical brief, Thomas Müller jumping onto the back of Basti (again), Draxler trying his new PSV games, Weigl and Kimmich hanging around, and Jonas Hector’s continuation of intentionally lingering away from him.

Indeed, he did not worry about Jonas’ professional position here anymore, because actually there was nothing for him to worry about. But the thing was, he probably should regret for that kiss, as now everything had changed. Mats, in fact, knew it better than anyone. He never got a so vivid realization of the change that a simple chaste kiss being capable of making, perhaps it all because the one he kissed did not know him being kissed at all? Since when Julian Draxler became such a devious little demon flirting around Jonas? Since when Ter Stegen and Emre Can would spend so much time talking to him with so much eye contact? Even now? During training? It would be stupid to deny the fact that it was ALL just his pointless keen jealousness playing some basic subterfuge, but he just could not set it aside.

The sunshine of Evian warmed every inch of his skin, just another normal day of German training camp. The summer of Evian was heating up, the middle of July decanted its vivacity down from the placid mountain slope, with the nightingales easing their aria before sunlight paint the morning sky gold and clear. Mats settled himself on a stationary exercise bike, totally off the line while Beni next to him talking something that he would later never remember.

“Oi! You listening?”

The irritated voice of Beni knocked him back to the conversation he in fact never engage himself in. Mario Götze sitting on another bike glanced over and raised a curious eyebrow.

“Wha…yeah, I am.”

Benedikt Höwedes glared at him suspiciously, then suddenly turned his eyes to the training pitch, quickly found Jonas Hector who was doing circus training with other boys, then eyed back to Mats. For a brief moment, thoughts crossed his mind. Even Mats had told him he decided not to rush anything with Jonas…but, did he? He must be blind not seeing Jonas wearing Mats’ coat after him getting off the bus the night when they came back from the match against Ukraine, and blushing. And he must be a fool if he needed ask a _why_ to get the answer. Of course he would not want to know the details, because innocent PG love stories was for teenagers, adults did it from R rate and up. However, things got strange. Hector and Hummels were not talking even seeing each other face to face for days, the cologne boy left the room early every morning. He also had realized Mats being a little down and ill-tempered for past a few days. Nothing like traces of rumpus or dissension presented in the air, but there was something strange. Beni hesitated between dropping the conversation completely or being an idiot friend with a stupid heart of care, yet less than ten seconds later, he sighed to himself, spoke anyway, lowered his voice.

“What is between you and Jonas? Don’t fool me, asshole. You two are not talking for days.”

Mats did not answer immediately, but reached down to the resistance adjusting bottom, applying more intensity. Seconds of silence nourished perfect brain storms, the Schalke man turned his head back, already forming various possible conclusions. _Even if they probably had screwed each other already, it was not quite possible Mats being dumped so fast, was it?_

_Wait, was it?._

“…it’s ok if you don’t want to talk about it.”

_Uhmm…was it insecurity? Fearful-avoidant attachment? Or he is a top too? Perhaps problems of…getting hard? Oh my god that was horrible how could…_

“I don’t know.”

_…Huh?_

It took Höwedes three maybe four seconds to realize his friend was actually answering his stupid question. Mats cycled in a normal speed, casting him a tedious glance. “Whatever you are guessing, drop it.”

“I thought he dumped you, after you two…uhmm…”

Mats rolled his eyes. “No.” The Bavarian reached to the adjusting bottom again. “It’s not what you think.”

“Then what happened on that damn bus?”

Mats tensed.

 

Just…another normal training day of German national football team, and the summer of Evian was heating up. Hector sometimes believed Thomas Müller was right, they were here for a summer vacation instead of any international matches or tournaments. Despite all those flirty fluff and strange romance happened days before, Hector never intended to be a person of skittishness. However, lucky for him, the following days rolled everyone into its plan sheet of ordinary training and commercial activities, he could surrender himself to their comprehensive schedule. The clearness of sunlight and the laughter of the boys seemed accelerate the fade of time, the memories of strange romance between Mats and him very soon became dreamy even distant. Did he really kissed him? Was he into him like he was? Did he fall for him the way he did?

_Idiot._

Probably he wasn’t, probably these were all just his own imagination and anachronic self-awareness drifting on the gleaming surface of a shallow sleep. He did not want to embarrass himself. Anyway, that’s Mats Hummels, who would not fall for Mats Hummels? The only thing subsided so easily was the certainty of his lips ever touched his hair, together with the delicately fragile hope of something sweet yet without a name.

Things got even worse, when the coaches scheduled the very next day after the night with kiss still printing its feel in his hair and down to his mind and he still did not know how to give back Mats’ coat, to be a recover training in swimming pool.

_Well done, Herr Jogi._

The clamors of the boys struck his ears, they capering around each other in the secluded swimming pool like being on a high-school summer vacation, filled the morning with laughers and giggles and usual humor. After some yoga stretches, most of the boys just plunged into the water, with Thomas Müller on the first of the line like he had never seen a swimming pool before. Jonas Hector just found himself unable to keep his eyes to himself while Mats the-Show-off Hummels getting all wet. The water drilling down the curve of his muscles gleaming on that sun-kissed skin, the way he muff his hair, the delightful winkle at the corner of his eyes.

He pitied himself when he had to climb onto the dry land, a little clumsily, and reengaged himself in doing yoga, hoping the so-called yoga power could zen-out the hardness of a certain part of his body. The next day, he almost got himself hit by a ball flying passing by while paying too much attention to that Bavarian brunette lingering somewhere near on the edge of his eyesight, Jogi from distance shot a glare at him, detecting his mind in vagrancy. Jonas cleared his throat and looked back apologicaly. Damn his assertiveness, he definitely underestimated how much that cavalier bastard sitting on a stationary bike talking to Höwedes like nothing happened, was able to affect him. He had to stop it unless he wanted to be benched.

He could swear to his mother he indeed made up his mind to put an end to all these strange romance. But all of these would pale, when Mats Hummels standing in front of him, uttering something like his eyes were so very charming. Jonas Hector never recalled the exact sentence Mats used (did he say “Your eyes are very charming” or “You have very charming eyes”?). But it hit him like a transitory blank, like someone hit his pause bottom.

It was the night after the match against North Ireland, the crescent moon of summer flaunted its light after the equivocal kind of weather gifting a mild shower, their flight was delayed because of some strange reasons, and it was already past midnight when they got onto their bus rolling its wheels. He kept checking his phone until it already past 2:00 a.m and finally the front gate of Hotel Ermitage appeared in the fainted mellow street light, and slowly their giant vehicle killed its engine. Jonas sighed to himself softly, cursing his sleep habit which probably would grant him no sleep at all throughout remained the night time. He had a fragile sleep regulation, any dysregulated pattern of delaying would basically resulted in insomnia. He never told anybody, anyway being a professional athlete of sleeping disorder sounded nothing good, or perhaps anyone with any disorder sounded nothing good. He kept it private and secret quite successfully, thanks to athletic lifestyle requiring regulated circadian rhythm as some basic standard to meet. People like Miroslav Klose, the retired legend of Die Mannschaft, was a person obsessed with 9 p.m sleep regulation, which was always mentioned by Jogi as some role-model-class health advice. He sometimes just doubt if Miro was just another person in football industry with sleep disorder. The whole hotel was muffled by a hazed and cozy mode of sleepiness, dark without details, hushed its resplendent brightness. The soft touch of the pillow fabric failed to ease him into any sweet dream. Hector checked his phone again, the screen was simply too bright in the dark velvet purple of night.

<3:27 a.m>

He raised from his bed, rubbed his face with silent frustration, and then walked to the bathroom. The dimmest light above the bathroom mirror partially illumined the spacious room section, dying duskily away into remote corners. The artistically elaborate lamp threw warm light upon him, he saw himself started forming a dark circle under his eye, an obvious wan look.

_Christ, I won’t survive the tournament._

Sleep disorder led consequences, it was a rebarbative pettish jerk. If he did not solve it tonight, it was gonna torture him for days, even weeks. If this was just a month of normal summer vacation he would not worry about it too much, but it was not, no matter how much it felt like, and he could not afford that. Hector turned the tab on, adjusting the water to gentle warmth, the quiet running water streamed like a lonely mormorando, the yellow ray glittered in a faded manner on every drop of it. He took a towel, wetted it, shutting his eyes and rubbing the soft material against his face, praying this tender warm feeling of moisture would help. The momentary dark on the inside of his eyelid was silent but nothing like soothing, just plain and shallow darkness, lonely and cold. He took the towel down, sighed, and opened his eyes.

_…?_

Another face struck him in the mirror the moment he opened his eyes. He turned around immediately, maybe a little skittish, still holding the towel against his neck.

“Mats?” It sounded stupid, the low blood pressure and lack of sleep dulled him, he cursed it, why he uttered his name like he could not be sure if this was a dream or not?

Little to his surprise, the other guy chuckled. “Yeah, it’s me. You don’t have to check if I am real or not. But if you want…” He shrugged and opened his arms, smile cavalier as usual. “I am all here.”

Hector laughed softly. Though he must be a fool if he did not hear the flirty and suggestive tense underneath his sentences, which probably should cause him uncomfortable for its inappropriateness, he felt calm, even strangely, warm. Hummels leaned against the door frame, wore only his pajama, naked from the waist up. His muscles were of shapes of Greek marble statues, arms and chest being strong and elegant. His dark hair was messier than the daytime, but not too different, only perfectly matching his warm but hazed smile. Every inch of his figure made him look like a presiding priest of the temple of some Greek god or perhaps a Greek god himself on the edge of the mellow radiance of yellow lamplight. For a very brief moment, Hector wanted just reach out and touched him, to see if he was a real human or an ever-young immortal.

“Can’t sleep?” Mats asked.

Jonas, who a little lost to sight of the person who standing in front of him, with one second of revising himself to the situation, hesitated for another second, answered.

“Yeah.” He paused once again, then decided to be honest. “Just sleep disorder” He waved his hand in air vaguely, thinking he’d better explain nothing more while the other guy raised his eyebrow a bit.

“It must have troubled you for quite a long time.”

“Oh.” Hector was stunned by how fast Mats’ reacted to his words, especially this guy was not possibly like another person troubled by it. “How…”

“You start looking uneasy since knowing the flight was going to delay, keep checking your phone almost every ten minutes. You were anxious when Beni says goodnight to you, and then, I mean now…” Mats still leaning against the door frame, one hand gestured slightly, kept arms across chest, and cleared his throat. “It’s just…obvious, sleep disorder. Considering your usual condition and physic performances, it’s not too serious though, still a problem.”

Hector did not reply, but dropped his shoulder, he felt himself somehow more relax, memories of cold feeling of the plain darkness inside of eyelid dissolved rapidly.

“I’m not judging here, but...” Mats Hummels straightened himself a little but did not leave the door. “Ever told the meds?”

“No,”

“Alprazolam?”

Hector shook his head. “No, sleeping pills leave me want to vomit the next morning, even dizzy and headache when things got worse.” He looked back at Mats, lifted the corner of his mouth weakly. “Zopiclone kind is also not my thing, I tried a lot since I was 16. Most of these pills resulted in poor-quality sleep and daytime depression and anxiety on me so I think I should just take it easy…Don’t worry it’s not that serious. Just, you know, insomnia in a wrong time.”

The night was long, he felt both relief and pathetic, especially standing in front of a person of a figure of Greek god and he happened to have strange crush on, uttering his troubled sleep trash, dismay and wan. Hector turned back, biting the inner side of face, moisture the towel in his hand slowly again. The warm running water on his skin flowing tenderly, washed some of his troubled emotions into the sink and down to the drain. When he looked up again, he saw Hummels stood just behind, smiling at him in the mirror. The air was warm, the little bathroom still lingered some fainted traces of intricate aroma within that he remembered being exactly like the warm smell in one of the antique wing of the grand hotel house, the old fashioned garden with the bouquet of daisies and alpine squills against the sunny wall, he could hear the song of the summer insects somewhere distant, picturing those fluffy soft yellow light drift in a vast velvet night. But these mattered very little. He stood too close, Hector felt the breath of Hummels touched his hair, his ear, the skin on the small his neck. The Cologne young man dared not move, like the night on the bus, one week ago. He had to grab the edge of the sink tightly to prevent his hands from shaking. He wanted to think, but his brain simply went plain blank _._

“…Mats?” Hector uttered in a voice a little shaky, breathy like whisper. Then he could feel the grin faintly like his lips touched his ear lobe. Hector saw the other guy smiled in the mirror, forearm sneaked in front of him, turning the water off, rested both hands besides him, close enough to trap him between the washstand and his body, but not touching. Neither of them moved nor spoke, like the time frozen in the middle of summer. Those dark eyes in the mirror grew even darker, intensely fixed on him. He could smell the same delicate fragrance Hummels used the first time they probably met each other, half month ago in Ascona, the elaborate scent of mint and amber which but seemed totally appealing even toxicant now, Hector could feel his own cheeks burning and knees became weak.

“You are blushing, hero.” Hummels spoke nearly against his ear. His voice was of a bit flirt as usual but not like understating anything, low but soothing. His eyes locked with his, and slowly moved one of his hand onto his clothed waist, the younger man was shaking on this touch, he hold him still and gently moved his hands to the lean abdomen, slightly pressing Hector towards his own body.

“Jonas, breath.” His voice became even lower, intoxicatingly enchanting.

“I’m trying.”

Hummels chuckled, with a little more effort on hand, closed the gap between their bodies.

He should not feel this way but the wanton and sense of longing paved their way across every inch of his body ravishing his nerve and reason so naturally, leaving him wondered if he was in a sensational heretical ancient tale. Hector almost moaned as the solid frame pressed against his back. The higher body temperature felt surprisingly good, the sense of secure and warmth spread across his body and soon engulfed him, their image reflected in the mirror as the wispy yellow light enveloped them weakly. He was not a small person but Hummels was definitely a larger one, the half-naked Greek god hugged him from the back, countenance perfect as any casual night, left hand lingered ghostly at the bottom of his old sleeping T-shirt, and him, just like being in any Greek tales a human get caught by a god of love interest, a willing and skittish prey of pure lust and overwrought anticipation. It was sight of sensational implication, like an erotic commercial campaign for some luxury products. He gasped as that very hand moved a little bit more audaciously, fingertips caressed the skin just above the waistband of his boxers.

“If I am a better person, I should have waited at least until the tournament ends but…” Hummels whispered besides his ear, then lowered his head and placed a kiss on the side of his neck. “I’m not sure if I will survive that long under such a cruel torment.”

_God, that voice and that kiss._

His knees had definitely given in, he had to lean into the other guy’s body to keep himself from falling to the ground. Hector looked at himself in mirror, though they had done barely nothing yet, his own pupils were blown, lips parted, willingly exposed the tender flesh to welcome a romantically shallow kiss. Then there was a wobbling sense of strange dignity and pride surged forward when seeing himself being so vulnerable followed, he hesitated for a moment, then covered his hand on the one on his waist.

He gained an audible shaky breath from Mats, and the next second, the dark eyes of the Bavarian in the mirror grew fonder, more dangerously intense. It was going to be a romantic affair, but they had already skipped too many romantic steps just because they had wasted too much time on seeking some stupid certainty already there in plain sight. They went too fast thanks to being too slow and damn the tradition of delicate philosophical romanticism rooted in the pattern of thoughts in his German brain. He locked his eyes with his, sedately intertwining their fingers. Hector knew it was going to be a romantic affair so Greek to him.

“Jonas?”

“Then why just pretend you having not kissed me while I fall asleep on bus?” The captured human was going to turn the table. Hector turned around without breaking his hug, looked up into those eyes of dark brown, silent but determined.

Mats was startled, the silence in the air raised up together with something else. Like a precarious charade, the argot of dark desire in dereliction quickly drifting up from the deepest of his eyes, unspoken words already triggered the shattering of last qualms.

“…you knew.” When one of them finally spoke, this time, the voice of the elder man was dangerously low, audibly with dying sound of self-restrain.

“I guessed.” Hector shrugged, the hands locked behind his lower back sneaked a little lower, cupped his butt which sent the heat burning on his cheek straight down to his spine. He had to try very hard not rutting like a whore against the warm body in front of him, even though he had felt the obvious hardness pressed against his. And yes, he was hard in his boxers and he did not even know since when. “I thought I was dreaming, you just confir…uhmm!”

That was the moment when Mats Hummels grabbed the back of his head and crushed their lips together. Hector never knew a kiss could started so hard and violent, all mouth and teeth, the Greek god soon found his ear, his face and his neck, combined with licking and biting, then back to his mouth for a more demanding kiss, which was insane and impassioning every nerve in his brain, wiping out anything would protest as obscurity, igniting flames swallowed every inch of his body. He could only think of thunder and rain, the violent capricious weather of chaos and passion in the mist of wild, once secreted in a shallow kiss now enflamed to a furiously full blossom. Mats lifted him onto the washstand without breaking their lips and he could felt his back hit the mirror. The gasp and pants he let out were even too suggestive to his own ear. They broke only for the air, gasping as silently as they could, Hector felt himself dizzy and wanton, he did not remember when his legs had already circled on that waist, pulling him closer, rocking their erections together way too much lasciviously.

“Mats…”

Hummels grunted and cursed at this movement. He could feel how desperate the young man, perhaps himself as well, was when he panted his name against his lips, seeking to regain the connection. God knows he probably had used up his life-time saving of self-restrain to stop himself surrendering to his desire of just ravishing the delectable young man in front of him, leaving marks on his exposed skin, fucking him until he could only cry and scream his name, right here, right now.

_Any condom here? No? Lubrication? Neither. What’s the time now?_

The still functioning part of his mind during sex was something he would be grateful always. Hummels quickly drew a conclusion that a proper sex was going to be a delayed option on the checklist, then plan B: a quick bite. Anyway, Hector still had insomnia, and he was not going to be a selfish dick either. Therefore, he reached between their bodies, sneaked his hand into the other man’s boxers, and pulled out the long-waited erection, spread the leaking pre-come as lubrication with one firm stroke. The younger man yelped at the touch, then quickly hided his face in the junction of the other man’s neck, murmuring something he believed to be the regional dialect in Cologne.

“Quiet, Jonas. They will hear.”

Then the hand on his cock started to move, Hector threw one arm around the Bavarian’s neck, while lifting another hand to his mouth, muffling the embarrassing noises he never knew he could made. Hummels was a gentle lover, one hand with stead rhythms, the other ruffled the hair on the back of his head, speaking sweet but filthy promises beside his ears. He knew he could not hold too long, all of this strange night was just too much.

He nearly blanked out when the organism came and gasped for air violently while his heart thundered in his chest. That was the moment when Hummels uttered something about his eyes, he could never recall the exact sentence he used. Hector smiled weakly, reached to wipe out his cum on the other man’s abdomen, lazy and suggestive, but was stopped when he tried to tug that waistband.

“Mats?”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” He insisted.

“No, not this time. Trust me I want you by all means, you’ve been so nice to me.” Mats placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, chaste and tender. Then picked up the forgotten towel and wipe both of them clean quickly. “Go back and try get some sleep, you need it.”

 

The next morning was a gorgeous sunny day as usual in Evian, the whole Die Mannschaft basically canceled their training schedule, only arranged one hour of yoga recovery in the afternoon. The sunlight of French summer was simply too beautiful, the fact was, Jogi himself slept over and probably all the administrative members did, including most of the players as well. That was no one to blame after such a long and delayed travel that made everyone fell in love with the soft and warm beds easily, after all, for some boys, especially elder ones like Thomas Müller, it was a lovely summer vacation, with or without a love story.

Kids woke up early, Julian Draxler definitely was pleased at his performances yesterday, chatting with other Vlf boys rather buoyantly in the back garden until he saw Beni, sitting alone in the cool shadow under the white umbrella, face down. Julian stopped, waved a goodbye politely and leave the joyful group, walked over to the elder blonde, who raised his head then back to his posture, did not say hi.

_This is not good._

Julian was somehow a little worried. The Schalke guy wore a pair of sunglasses, but could not conceal his status of obvious sleeping scarcity. The young boy sat down beside him, carefully reach out and took off his expensive accessory.

“Hey old man, what’s wrong?”

Beni did not reply immediately, even did not protest being called “old man”, but turned his face and looked at him with a tedious weary look, then turned back, signed, grinding his teeth.

“I didn’t get damn one second of sleep last night, boy. Damn. One. Second.”

_Oh._

“Try some pills?”

The sunlight was too clean and bright to have a face of discontent. Julian snugged a little closer, handed over his water bottle. Höwedes hesitated for a moment then took it over and drank.

“It’s not about that.” The Schalke captain turned his eyes grumpily to the other side, and Julian followed his gesture, seeing four guys playing basketball on the idle open field not quite distant. Mario Götze teamed up with Thomas Müller against…Mats and Jonas? Thinking of that unpleasant dinner days before, the situation now was quite obvious, though he did not care about it too much. Actually that was quite a sight, all four of them were topless, and the sunlight kissed their naked skin and the bodies of athletic agility, which was a strikingly powerful image of youth and energy. Julian for one second could only think of ancient Greek and their naked splendid Olympic tradition.

_No, stick to the point._

“Mats?”

“Who else.”

“Oh.” The expression on Julian’s face turned convoluted, even a little bitter while noticing Bendedikt still fixing his eyes on the basketball field. “I…I thought you have been done with him for years.”

_…Uh?_

Beni startled, shot his head back and saw Julian looking at him with an expression that clearly made him felt strangely guilt.

“Christ no.” The Schalke captain immediately knew what direction Julian had led his little brain onto, but he now more hated himself being such an indifferent dick causing the boy feeling so bad somehow. “It’s not like that. Why even you would think Mats and I still want anything romantic from each other?”

“Then what costed your sleep?”

The boy just too keen and smart, Beni knew he could never treat him the way fooling a naïve child. He let out a sigh and rested his jaw on one hand, fingers rubbing the inner corner of his eyes like there was an instant itch. He could not help but imagining how he was like in the boy’s eyes, he must look so old now with the dark circles under his eyes.

“They were making out in the bathroom last night. Don’t take it wrong I’m in fact glad that they finally figure things out, the point is,” Benedikt now started to rub his face, the lack of sleep left the skin on his cheek an rather irritated and unstable feeling, not like forgetting applying lotion after shaving, simply uncomfortable. “That side of wall against my bed hold little noises. I heard every damn word and sound they made so I put on my earpod and the first song my phone shuffled was of Mariah fucking Carey, and that damn bastard doesn’t feel a single bit of sorry for any of everything! He should be! What kind of friend would want to know the connection between sex and sleep and asking—let me quote his damn word, ‘consulting’--me in the morning? How would I …!”

Höwedes did not know since when his dull complains gone into some angry ramblings, but suddenly his fretful irritation just quiet down. He felt someone pecked a gentle kiss on the corner of his forehead, just above the tail of his eyebrow. And those lips were soft and cool, smiling against his skins. Beni had never notice that the fresh air of Evian always mixed a fragile smell of lily or daisy or maybe some other summer followers, nor did he notice the sunlight casting down from million miles above touched his skin being so warm and tender. When the lips finally parted, he turned around, saw Julian Draxler staring at him with the most innocent smile on face.

“Feeling better now?”

The young boy was no longer a boy any more, his body frame was solid with beautiful broad shoulder, legs lean and strong. Beni noticed all the stunning details when Julian stood up. The dark hair young man walked a few steps away before he stopped then turned back, face quite amused.

“Actually, sex stimulates the producing of prolactin, and prolactin peaks in REM sleep. That’s easy, google it, old man.”

Beni was stunned, still speechless.

 

 

Things got easier, but the tournament got tougher. The delightful atmosphere had lowed somehow gradually since they stepped out of the group stage. Draxler scored a marvelous goal with a perfect body swiveling that probably going to be enough to win him a prize or some nominee for young player this time during the game against Slovakia. Die Mannschaft won by three, but that did not guarantee any easier steps for whatever coming next.

The German-Italy clash went epic. The game lasted into penalty and did not knock neither of the team out until the 9th round, when Hector’s last goal sent Die Mannschaft to the next stage. That penalty time was a torturing for everyone, Manuel joked later that probably lots of fans had  already freaked out in front of TV since the third round, and boys hugged and screamed in ecstasy after the team survived through such a cruel procedure, Jonas knew Mats ruffled his hair violently and circled one of his arm around his neck even with Manuel still leaving half of his body between them, and the gesture that tugged him over from Julian Wiegl with hands cupping his face was way too possessively passionate. Thomas Müller decided quitting being the first penalty shooter from now on and Mesut no doubt meditated himself for some minutes before they went to the stands of German fans. This penalty stage went too long, beyond anyone’s expectation, and probably because boys from both sides were just too nervous. Jonas could felt his knees still in jelly even when he finally calmed down, Jogi walked over and gave him a warm hug.

Near the entrance of long passage tunnel to changing room he found Mats, who somehow silently pacing around. The elder guy saw him coming, welcomed him with his iconic bright smile. Fans still chanting their names and songs somewhere or everywhere.

“Nice score, hero.”

“Yours too.”

He chuckled and ruffled his hair again, gesture brief and pure friend-like. “But, you know I won’t be able to be on the pitch for the next match, sounds similar.”

“I know.” Hector smiled, noticing people still came and go in the tunnel, cameras and flashlight still hunting for highlights for tomorrow’s headlines. He tugged his arm slightly, though he wanted to kiss him, even if just a shallow peck on the corner of his mouth. “Yellow card on 90th minute punctually, quite stylish.”

“Thank you for reminding me.” Mats replied wearily.

“No, you don’t have to. I’m talking about the referee.”

The elder one slapped his butt playfully and laughed.

 

That was a summer of strange romance in the country of love and passion, but Marseille was their last stop, bidding a farewell with a bitter lose to France. They left France from Paris this time, and the night of Paris was full of shimmering street lights and whispering artistic life like a flowing love letter in endless mellow conversation.

Hector felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, while they waited at the airport lounge. And the name on the lock screen was very little to his surprise.

Mats: [Do you think we need a talk?]

That bastard just stood with Thomas and Manuel, a few steps behind him. He raised his eyebrow and replied.

[About what?]-send

Hector could felt his eyes fixing on him. Then he saw the other was typing.

Mats: [I still want whatever between us after this summer. You won’t dump me when we back to Germany, right?]

_Dump? Excuse me?_

The other one was still typing, clearly did not wanted to be interrupted.

Mats: [Do you think we move too fast? Or maybe we should just start it all over again?]

Mats: [A first date? A candlelight dinner? An intense and hot sex? A travel or event with proper time for future anniversary?]

No, he now started to feel his cheek burning. The Cologne guy turned back, seeing Mats just stood in front of him, face to face, with the same expression he had upon the first time he send him messages, standing in the splendid hall of Hotel Ermitage just one step away, cavalier and flirty, with a ridiculous smirk on face which he really wanted to just throw a punch on.

The cellphone on his hand vibrated again.

Mats: [You can decide the sequence anyway.]

OK, he was definitely blushing hard now. He couldn’t believe he just did this, sending message to a person standing right here, looking at him with flirty passion in his eyes.

[Asshole.]-send

He heard his giggles sounded warm and gentle.

[Love you.]-send

Jonas nearly stumbled when Mats pulled him into a quick hug, looked totally innocent in everyone’s eyes.

“I’ll have you say it again in bed.” He whispered.

He definitely should have punched him.

 

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking about another Hecmmels(yes, this name) story, maybe go AU?  
> Anyway, thank your for reading my story ; )


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